2010. December 24th. 11:59 PM. Somewhere off the California coast. Approx. 100 feet under the sea floor. A man is sitting in a black desk chair, his finger sitting on a small button among many on a control panel. A few monitors flash just above his head. One is a radar of some sort, one shows various security cameras in a hallway, one flashes photographs of places such as fields, lakes, the occasional building. The man seems on-edge, nervous, constantly glancing up at the center monitor -- the hallways -- and looking over his shoulder at the locked, metal door. His phone vibrates in his pocket. The man jumps up out of the chair in shock, then realizes what it is. He answers the call.

Suddenly, the center monitor abruptly switches to the shot of the stairs. Countless infrared figures (okay, like, fifteen) begin pouring through the open metal hatch in the ceiling, all heavily armored.

Man: There’s no time! They’re here! Get the message to-- … I understand. … It’s been wonderful working with you, sir…

The man pauses, looking back at the door again. He begins shaking, and a few tears roll down his acne-covered cheeks.

Man: (nods) … Goodbye.

The man closes the phone, absently dropping it on the floor. He begins walking towards the control panel, wiping his eyes in a pointless attempt to defend his manryness. He sets the chair properly on its legs and resumes his seat. There’s a loud bang; a large dent is left in the metal door. Repeat. Repeat.

Silence.

The man presses the button.

DAS ENDE--------------------

prologuen gaems

I can't write. Y'all know that. Hence script. And even then it still sucks.

I'd post more prologuen but I can't decide whether I want the story in a territory or the capital.